This is a place for stories, embellished with the passing
of
the
years, or not, as your memory allows.
Send me your stories, to be added here along with the comments that the
story generates.
Pictures too, if you have them. nvsoar

Vic Gulliver recounts an adventure from the 59-60 deployment to the Aleutians -

A Real Sea StoryBy Vic Gulliver

My first crew assignment in VP-2 was on George Silberstein’s Crew 9 in
1959. I figured I should tell this story now. John Cooper
and I may be the only remaining members from that flight crew.

I arrived in the squadron in late September. The squadron was
just starting to pack up to deploy to Kodiak/Adak in November.
This was before the advent of the Replacement Air Group (RAG) where I
might have learned how to fly the P2V-7 before arriving at VP-2.
I knew nothing about how to fly the P2V or what a VP squadron
did. They called us newcomers “nuggets.” I was given one or
two familiarization flights before we deployed. I recall that Max
Branscomb took me out on my first FAM flight and showed me a lot about
the airplane. But, I was more of a liability to Crew 9 because of
what I didn’t know, than I was an asset for what I did know, which
wasn’t much. I did know how to navigate though.

George Silberstein was one of several first-tour Lieutenants in the
squadron to have his own flight crew. Because of a quirk in the
officer rotations, the squadron had transferred a lot of pilots just
prior to the deployment. There was a big influx of new,
unqualified pilots (like me). Perhaps because the CO had a lot of
confidence in George Silberstein, he was given a flight crew including
three other pilots, none of whom had qualified as PP2P (second-pilot)
or PP3P (third-pilot) and we were facing a winter deployment to Alaska
where flying can be treacherous. Besides George and me, the other
two pilots on the crew were Bill Sterton (who coined the phrase, “It’s
so nice out, I think I’ll leave it out!”) and Don Hindorff (whose
pencil-thin moustache rivaled Clark Gable’s). Not to paint too
gloomy a picture of our piloting skills, Bill and Don had come to VP-2
from VW-4 where they had probably amassed a couple thousand hours in
piloting the Super Constellation on the Pacific radar barrier.
They were experienced pilots, but they had no knowledge of the P2V or
the mission of our squadron.

George
Silberstein recognized right away that he had a problem. With a
pilot crew consisting of himself and three PP-No-P’s, George could
never leave the cockpit. It would be unwise to put two
unqualified pilots together in the front seats because they might not
(probably would not) know how to handle any unusual or emergency
situations that could arise. For obvious reasons, George made it
a high priority to train and qualify his other pilots. With
Bill’s and Don’s many hours of flying experience, it made sense that
they should get qualified as PP3P, PP2P and PPC long before a nugget
like me. It was normally expected that it might take two years
for a newcomer to qualify as Plane Commander (PPC). Those who
came to the squadron with previous squadron flying experience were
expected to qualify as PPC sooner, hopefully within six months.
If I remember correctly, George qualified Bill and Don as PP3P’s even
before we left for Kodiak in November. Shortly after we deployed
to Alaska, Bill and Don were under pressure to qualify as PP2P’s.

With Alaskan weather as bad as you might
expect in November, it was difficult to conduct pilot training flights,
but somehow Bill and Don got the training they needed and passed their
PP2P cockpit-check rides. All they needed to become
fully-qualified PP2P’s was to pass a check ride in which they showed
their competence in aerial navigation. So, on one of our first
reconnaissance patrols out of Adak, George assigned Bill and Don,
together, to do the aerial navigation, from pre-flight planning
to take-off and all the way through the flight to landing. (“Oh
Boy, I don’t have to navigate on this flight,” I said to myself.)
Bill and Don plotted the intended track on a navigation chart and off
we went with Bill and Don rotating from the cockpit to the Nav table
throughout the flight. It was one of those pie shaped missions
that took us from Adak out to the northwest for several hours, then a
left turn to the southwest for a couple of hours, then a third leg back
to Adak.

All went well on the first
two legs, dipping down occasionally to identify and photograph surface
contacts. As we made the final turn to head back to Adak, George
looked down through a hole in the clouds and saw an island passing
beneath us. That island shouldn’t have been there… or we
shouldn’t have been over an island at that point. George called
back to Bill on the intercom… “Are we lost; what’s that island we’re
flying over?”

Bill responded calmly, “We’re not lost. We’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

“Well, what’s this island down below us,” George repeated, already
knowing the names of most of the islands in the Aleutian Chain.

Three things happened almost simultaneously: (1) George’s face turned
from red to pale and back to red again; (2) Our radioman shouted a
codeword on the intercom that we later learned was a highly classified
signal that we were about to be intercepted by Soviet aircraft; and (3)
John Cooper (our Ordnanceman) came up on the intercom and said, “Hey,
there’s two MiG’s flying formation on our right side… Oh, wait, there’s
two more MiG’s on our left side.”

On George’s
signal, Grady Orr (our Plane Captain) lit the jets as George pushed the
nose over and dove into the cloud cover below. We couldn’t outrun
the MiG’s, but we could hide in the clouds to avoid being attacked if
they had that in mind. Cooper got some good photographs of the
MiG’s before we lost contact with them. One photo showed one of
the MiG’s close enough that we could make out the pilot’s extended
finger.

As it turned out, we had flown
directly over one of the Komandorsky Islands at the far western end of
the Aleutian Chain, which Bill and Don didn’t realize were Soviet owned
and occupied. One of those islands was home to a Soviet MiG
fighter squadron. Bill and Don had misplotted our final turning
point due to confusion over it being in east longitude instead of west
longitude with which we were all more familiar. It was an easy
error to make, but it took us a couple of hundred miles away from where
we were supposed to be. Needless to say, we got back to Adak
safely, but Bill and Don flunked their PP2P navigation checks.
They did pass a subsequent check flight and went on later to each make
Plane Commander.

I learned a lot from George
Silberstein, not only about flying the P2V, but also about working with
and leading a flight crew. Much of what he taught me was helpful
later on when I got my own crew in VP-2, and in subsequent tours of
duty in P3A and P3C squadrons. George practiced the “Do unto
others…. golden rule” leadership style in which he treated people in
the same manner that he wanted to be treated. I tried to use that
same technique later in life, and it seemed to work pretty well.
My tour in VP-2 was the foundation of my navy career and my experiences
and our (Pat's and my) friendships there were positive factors in
deciding to make the navy my career.nvsoar_20Mar2009

Operation Ivy Certificate sent by Robert Choate, son of
Robert B Choate.

[nvsoar__30Jun2008]

Wayne Cowen recalls the 1964 Good Friday Quake -

Earth Quake……Good
Friday 27 March 1964 W.
Cowen

Kodiak
Island, Alaska…..U.S. Navy Patrol Squadron Two nearing the
end of an Alaskan deployment and
looking forward to a return to Whidbey Island, Washington
and the
“gals we left behind”.

The
end of the week….”happy
hour” underway at the O-Club. I was in my room on the second
floor
of the BOQ with several squadron mates and was just starting to
change out of uniform and into “civies” for a run to the club for
something to eat. At 5:36pm the first minor tremors were
felt…..I
recall someone saying… “hey, we are having a bit of an
earthquake…..if you sit on the bed you can feel it”!
Initially,
it did not raise a concern …..we were used to regular tremors,
especially at Adak Island in the Aleutians. However, the
tremors
rapidly increased into a shaking movement. A quick look out
the
window revealed the street below moving in a rolling manner…..and
the building was beginning to sway! Damn, this was serious!

Our
first thought was that the
building might come down and we needed to get out……FAST!
While
running down the hall I recall it was difficult to maintain balance
as I was being thrown from one wall to the other…..hall light
globes were crashing to the floor making it difficult to avoid
cutting my bare feet. As I reached the first floor and passed
a
female officer, it was only then that I realized I was still in my
under shorts. I saw a pair of jeans draped over a
chair….without
hesitation I grabbed them and jumped into them on the run. As
we
exited the building most of the tremors had ceased……and, other
than a few bricks falling off the chimney, there was little apparent
outside damage.
Time
to go back in, get properly
dressed, and check for damage in the room. The room was a bit
of a
mess, floor lamps turned over and numerous things had waltzed off
chests and the desk…..including my beloved reel-to-reel Akai tape
recorder. A couple of parts were bent/broken but otherwise it
was
serviceable. As we were picking things off the floor we
turned the
radio on to the local NS Kodiak station. The announcer,
somewhat out
of breath and with fear in his voice was saying, “there is a 20
foot wall of water heading at Kodiak Island……I say again, there
is a 20 foot wall of water heading toward Kodiak. This is my
last
transmission…..I am going off the air.” We all did a double
take….a slight pause…and we were once again running out of the
building. I jumped in the old Flight Crew Four ’50 Pontiac
which
was parked out front, and with a full passenger load headed for the
control tower located on higher ground.

Meanwhile
at the squadron
hangar, the duty officer Tom Rhodes was rounding up “happy hour”
pilots from the club to taxi aircraft from the parking ramp (just
above sea level) to higher ground. Wide cracks had opened-up
in the
ramps and taxiways. Fortunately, an aircraft that had been on
jacks
in the hangar five minutes before the quake, had been
lowered. At
one point Tom was reported to have said to his watch standers, “run
for your life……. it’s every man for himself!”
Moments before
he had been courageously instructing them to remain calm.

It
was getting dark as we rolled
into the tower parking lot…..the radio in the car usually picked-up
only a couple of stations, but at this moment the atmospherics for
reception were unreal….each slight turn of the dial brought in a
new station…..we even picked up a broadcast from Japan.
Weird! We
were beginning to get snatches of information announcing the
earthquake. We decided to return to the Officers Club….safety
in
numbers maybe? For several hours that evening we sat by
candlelight….electrical power had been lost….listening to
battery-operated radios which were reporting destruction in
Anchorage, Valdez, Kodiak and at other locations.

The
next day revealed a number of
modifications to the Alaskan landscape. Fires were
particularly
destructive at Valdez; Anchorage had considerable damage….including
the collapse of the airport control tower. I went into the
town of
Kodiak before it was closed off and witnessed a lot of destruction of
the shorefront area, and a number of large fishing boats deposited
several “blocks”inland! The channel buoy in “Old Woman Bay”
had been torn loose, also causing a degree of havoc. At the
naval
station water entered the VP hangar and rose to near the second deck
level. A few of the end-of-deployment cruise boxes that had
been
stacked there, floated into the bay and others were submerged
in-place. The boxes contained an assortment of squadron
equipment;
while others were loaded with personal merchandise purchased in Japan
during the course of the deployment……cameras, electronic
equipment, china, etc,etc. Portions of the east side of the
island
were now permanently underwater at high tide…..including about a
twenty-foot drop in the approach end of the GCA runway.

Most
of the squadron had a
shortened deployment due to the damage at Kodiak, and returned early
to Whidbey Island. I was not so lucky…….our flight crew was
one
of several to proceed to Adak to provide area turn-over instruction
to the squadron relieving us…..the first P-3 Orion equipped
squadron to deploy to Alaska. No time to sell the old
Pontiac…..Greg
Kelley, Jerry McDonald and I all signed-off on the title and Jerry
drove into town and “gave it” to his girl friend the evening
prior to our flight out the Aleutians.

We
arrived at Whidbey a week or
so later…..an interesting end to a unique “cruise”. A few
days
later I recall that the squadron cruise boxes had arrived and were
placed in an open NAS hangar. A large portion of them had
received
major water damage. As I entered the hangar, boxes with
dripping
contents were being inspected and inventoried for the filing of
personal loss claims….it was not a pretty sight! One trunk
had an
“extremely swollen” look with.metal packing bands holding it
together. As my attention was diverted elsewhere, someone
took a pair
of “cutters” and released the metal band. With a “pop and a
whirr” it went flying across the hangar at high speed……luckily,
noone was killed! Examination of the contents revealed a
quantity of
rice purchased in Japan. I also recall the loss of some
flight gear
that had been in a locker at the hangar. Sometime later, as I
filed
a government equipment survey form, I remember listing the cause of
loss……”An Act of God”. For sure……I had a new respect for
what an earthquake and tsunamis could do.

***The
epicenter of the
quake was 75 miles east
of Anchorage. The Richter magnitude was 8.6……the largest
earthquake to ever hit North America and the second largest ever
recorded![nvsoar__06Apr2008]

D.P. didn’t say much, probably because
he always
had a toothpick in his mouth!
As his TACCO for two years (XO then CO) it was a
challenge and an education.
You taught me a lot Skipper and it stood
me in good stead.
I wish I could have been there for your
final
muster. Sayonara and thank you for the privilege of serving
our
country with you.

Mardy Lewis
CAPT, USN, (Ret)
[nvsoar__16Jan2008]

From Evis Barnett -
Harry and I want to extend our sympathy to CDR
Lanaghan's family regarding his passing. We just checked our
e-mail after 10 days away, thus our late response.

We were in VP-2 from February
1959 to July 1962 and Harry was CDR Lanaghan's plane
captain while he was Executive and also Commanding
Officer. We left Whidbey that summer of 1962 so you
can see they flew many patrols together. In fact, Harry was
listed as #1 in the 600 Club of 1961 with 849.3 hours of
flight time, more than any other member of a flight crew, And
you know why, don't you? Because CDR
Lanaghan really loved to fly !!

He was a very competent P2V
pilot and as he always said to Harry "I wrote the book on the
P2V Neptune" and Harry thinks he probably did for he was the
best. Flying patrols was a real joy to CDR and you
had to know your job because he knew most everything about every
position on the P2V after his many years of flying.
That is why he and Harry did so well together for 12 plus
months.

We knew he had brothers and
sisters that he cared about but he would not get close to our girls,
ages 5, 7 and 9. That was OK, for it was a busy time in
those
years flying patrols to Kodiak and Adak.

Harry learned a lot from CDR
Lanaghan's expertise and hopefully CDR learned alittle from Harry
Barnett also......that a flight crew becomes another
family. We were always hoping he would attend one of
our VP-2 reunions and we always inquired about him through the
years. What a dedicated military man he was and it
was an honor for all of his crew to fly with him. He really
loved his Doublemint gum and to this day Harry and the guys
still chuckle about his gum chewing.

We extend to them our sympathy
and sadness for he was indeed a special man.
[nvsoar__16Jan2008]

From Vic Gulliver - A letter to Patrick
Lanaghn (nephew) for the Lanaghan family -

Patrick,
As did all the others on the address
list above, I
served with your uncle in VP-2. I was a young lieutenant
with
a
wife and three kids living paycheck to paycheck on a rather small
salary. We knew that CDR Lanaghan was a bachelor without all
the
household expenses of married life. Nonetheless, we were
surprised to hear from one of the admin officers that, when the time
came to pack up his office in Kodiak for the return trip to Whidbey
Island at the end of a six-month deployment, CDR Lanaghan opened his
desk drawer and pulled out all of his uncashed paychecks from the
deployment to pack up with his office papers.
Because he was the Commanding Officer,
he was known
to us as "Captain" Lanaghan, the honorary title given to commanding
officers regardless of their actual rank. Behind his back,
some
referred to him as "D.P." Some named him
"Studs." All
who served under him deeply respected his leadership abilities and
even-handedness, and most notably, his skills in flying the
P2V.
And now, an anecdote: When CDR
Lanaghan was
the Executive Officer of the squadron in the year before he was C.O.,
we all served under CDR Lanaghan's predecessor, CDR Emil E.
Pierre, who
was not well liked by many. Among other unredeeming
qualities, he
had a quick temper and little regard for his people. As the
Anti-Submarine Warfare (ASW) Officer, one of my duties was to make a
monthly report to higher authority on the number of sonobuoys and
practice depth charges (PDC's) we had used and the number remaining on
hand. It so happened that we had a great number of outdated
and
seldom-used PDC's of many different types that had to be reported each
month. We had a newer, more reliable model of PDC on hand
that
everyone used, and so the same old PDC's had to be counted and reported
each month. Our report to higher authority would have been
greatly simplified if we could use up all the old PDC's.
One day, when Captain Pierre was due to
go out on an
ASW flight, he asked his ordnanceman to load a certain number of the
old PDC's for use that day. He was told that we no longer
had
those old PDC's in stock, so Captain Pierre inquired about the many
other old PDC's that he knew we had. Again, he was told that
all
the old PDC's had been used up. Since we hadn't done any
recent
ASW operations, Captain Pierre knew that he was being lied
to. It
was like the famous, fictional case of the missing
strawberries.
Of course, he ran from the ordnance office to my office, in a rage, to
get to the truth.
I had no idea what had happened to the
missing
PDC's, but I promised Captain Pierre that by the time he got back off
his flight I would have an answer. (Actually, it was less of
a
promise on my part, and more of a threat on his part.) My
first
course of action was to call the X.O., CDR Lanaghan, to report that the
C.O. was highly outraged regarding the missing PDC's.
"Oh,
that,"
CDR Lanaghan replied; "We threw those out on our last flight just to
get rid of them."
"Are you going to tell the Captain about
that?" I asked. "I'm kind of on the hook here."
"Who me?" He replied... "Not a
chance. Don't
worry about it, though; the C.O. will calm down and get over
it."
I wasn't so sure. Fortunately
for me, Captain
Pierre's flight returned to base in the middle of the night, so I
didn't have to be there when he landed. I often wondered if
he
came looking for me at that hour, but I never heard. The
next
day, all was calm and the C.O. didn't mention the PDC's.
At
the
end of the month, we reported that all the old PDC's had been expended
in an ASW exercise and the subject was never raised again. I
can
only assume that when the C.O. landed, CDR Lanaghan was there
to set
the C.O. straight, and possibly even give him a lesson or two
on how to
deal with crises and junior officers. He probably also
mentioned
that, although the PDC's were disposed of fraudulently, the X.O.'s crew
had only done what the C.O. was planning to do himself that
night (only
the X.O's crew had done the complete job).
CDR Lanaghan was one of the "good
guys." His
quiet leadership style struck an early chord with me. I
tried
to
emulate his style in the remainder of my thirty-year Navy
career.
I'm sure he will be missed by friends and family alike. My
wife
and I both offer our sincere condolences at your loss.
Best regards, Victor S. Gulliver,
Captain, U.S. Navy
(Ret.)
[nvsoar__16Jan2008]

From Dave Bowen on learning of Cdr Lanaghan's death -

Sad day. Maybe it's time to have a few "I
remember when" about Cap'n Lanaghan. Like how he always
seemed to be chewing gum, at least as I remember it. And he
wore his "piss cutter" at a jaunty angle. As a young junior
officer, as tradition had it, you were suppose to invite the CO over to
dinner at least once. I did. He asked what we
were
going to have for dinner. I told him. He
declined. I was greatly relieved. To tell the
truth, I was
scared spitless of him. Or the time I ended up as his
copilot
on a very long patrol from Kodiak, up to meet a submarine when it came
out from under the ice pack. It was the longest flight in a
P2 I think I ever did. He sat in the left seat the whole
flight, drank at least one cup of coffee per hour....and never got up
to use the relief tube...the whole time. Or how about the
time when we put on the big Christmas party at the O'Club at Kodiak for
all the station people. We put on a skit and Vic was the
"weather man", Ledbetter was the Duty Officer, etc. The
Admiral was REALLY upset with us and Cap'n Lanaghan took the brunt of
the "dressing down".

Well, that's enough from me although I could go on.
I had great admiration for him. He didn't talk a
whole lot but when he did, you better be listening. Also, he
could fly that old P2 like nobody else. Seems like he had
over 10,000 hours pilot time back then. That was a lot!!

Good memories. Dave
Bowen
[nvsoar__28Dec2007]

Sorry to hear of Cdr Lanaghan's passing.
I was a junior officer
in VP-2 while he was XO and CO. He was a pilot's
pilot. He knew the
airplane forward backwards. He was affectionately known as
"Studs"
Lanaghan.
One small personal story I'll never forget
demonstrated how he operated. In Naval Aviation
there were
two
instrument ratings -- a "white card" pilot who was limited to
certain
weather conditions and a "green card" pilot who, based on accumulating
a considerable number of instrument hours and total experience, could
sign his own flight plan. The acquisition of the green card
was at the
discretion of the CO.

One extremely foggy night during a hot
submarine chase it appeared that as a "white card" pilot I would not be
able to launch (the conditions so bad that it required a follow-me
truck just to get to the runway for take-off). "Studs" was
there while
I was getting my weather briefing and he talked as if I was going to
launch. When I said that I didn't have a "green card" he
simply said
"You do now." As I thought back on it, I know that he was
quite sure
of my abilities and not simply bowing to the pressure of the
situation. While I was a qualified Plane Commander I was too
junior to
have my own crew, yet I often had the opportunity to take the crew for
detachment duties while deployed in the Aleutian Islands. I
remembered
the many times that he was present with the approach controllers during
some nasty weather approaches I had made.

I
think this was indicative of how he operated. Though quiet
and
unassuming he knew his personnel well and was a very effective
CO. I
remember him as one of the best.
Wayne Lamer
[nvsoar__27Dec2007]

WHAT THE NAVY HAS
MEANT TO ME!

In downtown St. Louis there stands a fine stone building
named simply
“Soldiers Memorial”. Upon entering you would
immediately notice a large mural on one wall depicting a Naval aviator
standing in flight gear in front of his WW2 Grumann wildcat.
It’s Lt. Cdr Butch O’Hare. He was our first
“ace” in that war.

Chicago named O’Hare field after Butch, but he was living in
St. Louis before the war. I know this because his
home was in a
second story apartment on Bates Avenue, in South St.
Louis.
On Sunday mornings it was our ritual, (my Dad and I), to drive down to
Grandma Ryan’s cold-water flat for a visit. On the way we
would pass Butch’s home where there hung a star in the
window. Dad explained to me what that star represented and
so
every Sunday as we passed I would glance up to see that the star was
still there and so all was well and Butch was fighting on somewhere in
the Pacific.
Then one day, as we passed, I noticed there was something different
about that star. It had changed somewhat. The
colors were
different. I mentioned it to Dad as we drove on and I kept
starring out the window. Dad didn’t reply, and so turning
from the window I looked at him. He had the side of his fist
pressed against his mouth and there were tears in his eyes.
I’d never seen Dad like that before. In a moment he
regained his composure and in a voice somewhat choked with emotion he
said, “The change in Butch’s star means that he is missing
in action and presumed dead.”

The visit to Grandma’s was a quiet one that day as was the ride
home.
We continued our weekly ritual in the weeks and months to follow and I
still glanced up at the star when we passed. I guess I was
hoping
it would change back and Butch would be found alive, but of course,
that never happened.
CKoI was only five years old then, but I remember one particular
Sunday, as we passed, and I was lost in thoughts about the war, Butch,
and his sacrifice, I blurted out, “Dad when I grow up I want to
be a Navy flyer”. No response, and so turning I saw Dad,
for only the second time in my life, with a tear in his eye.
I
didn’t know it then, but I know now, those were tears of pride.

Joe Ryan

[nvsoar___24Jul2007]

Old Reliable --
P2V-5

In November 1955, while stationed at NAS Whidbey Island, we got ordered
TAD to NAS North Island, San Diego. We were flying P2V-5's
at
the
time - two engines - no jet pods.
We would fly 12-hour missions, 3 hours out (southwest), then 6 hours on
station, locating fishing boats and pleasure craft with our radar, then
calling a destroyer to escort them out of the area. The
government was going to explode and test a small nuclear
device.
The fishing boats owners knew this would kill a lot of fish, so they
kept entering this zone to try to prevent the operation.
Well, we had flown 3 hours -- just started our patrol pattern and BANG
- our starboard engine blew a cylinder and quit. We were at
2,600
feet altitude. We called the base and began SOS and, I
think,
a
mayday call. We turned back toward North Island, put the
port
engine on full rich, and dropped to 900 feet (it was night).
The
pilot gave us orders to throw out everything to lighten our
load.
We used crash axes to cut everything free and out went tool boxes,
stove, top deck turret machine guns, etc.
It took us 6 hours to fly back to base on one engine.
When we finally landed I got out and kissed the
runway. The
engine was white hot and shut itself down. The pilot came
back
and asked if I was scared. I replied, "yes sir, right up to
and
including now." He then asked if I was going to fly with him
Friday and I replied "yes, sir." He then said "don't worry
about
being scared, Mr. Melton, we were all scared, but the courage
comes in
when you keep flying."

After flying our required missions in support of Market Time (January
1968) from Tan Son Nhut airdrome located in Saigon, we proceeded back
to Sangley for a break. During our down time in Sangley, I
requested permission from the Wing Commander via the CO, CDR Dagg, to
fly the crew to Australia for three days of R&R.
Permission
was granted and we were planning an early morning departure from
Sangley on Jan 24, 1968. Needless to say the entire crew was
excited.

We had no idea that the USS Pueblo had been captured by the North
Koreans on Jan 23 until early morning of Jan 24. I was
alerted to
round up my crew and proceed to Iwakuni, Japan ASAP (there went our
liberty in Australia). If my memory serves me correctly, CDR
Dagg
and his crew (YC-01), and one other crew (YC-09 or YC-11) also departed
for Iwakuni that morning.

Arriving at Iwakuni, we were met by various Air Intelligence officers
to follow them for a briefing. The air intelligence officers
were
receiving information about the capture of the USS Purblo only from the
Armed Forces Radio. We had to wait until the latest news
came
in
before we were briefed on the incident (very little info
available).
The USS Kitty Hawk and her escorts were in Hong Kong on liberty when
the USS Pueblo was captured. Liberty was cancelled and all
hands
were rounded up to proceed to the Sea of Japan.

If my memory and my Log Book is correct, YC-02 departed from Iwakuni on
the afternoon on Jan 25, 1968 and proceeded to the northern section of
the Sea of Japan to work with the nuclear cruiser USS
Truxtun.
Our aircraft was equipped with depth bombs in the Bomb Bay and a full
load of rockets on the wing stations and Presidential Authority to
expend the weapons if necessary. I’m sure that we were over
80,000 lbs during takeoff.

As we headed west toward a gap in a mountain range at approximately
6,000 ft., the true airspeed began to bleed off, altitude began to drop
but turbulence was nil. We were apparently in a strong
downdraft
approaching the gap due to strong westerly winds. We had to
increase recip engine power to military and light-off the jets to climb
and gain airspeed in order to fly through the gap. We sent a
message to base to alert the other crews regarding mountain wave
conditions.

We had to fly approximately three hours to intercept the USS
Truxtun. Truxtun’s duty was to identify vessels by radar
and direct aircraft to determine the ship’s nationality and
whether or not they are North Korean or Russian warships.

It was dark and cold when we arrived “on station,” the
weather was thick and visibility was approximately zero/zero from
approximately 6,000 ft to the deck. Fortunately, our deicing
equipment and the Janitrol heaters were working. Truxtun had
a
few radar targets that they wanted us to evaluate. We
descended
toward the targets as the Truxtun directed our bearing. All
external electronic emissions were off in order to surprise the
target. The weather was terrible, zero visibility and icing,
however, very little turbulence was encountered. As we
descended
through 1,000 ft., I directed the radio operator to extend his trailing
wire antenna to its limit, and to let me know if it shorts out,
indicating we are too close to the sea. At approximately 2
miles
from the target, we leveled off at approximately 100 ft.
altitude in
order to clear a fairly large ship if needed. At ½ mile,
we turned on the landing lights (the searchlight would create a vivid
glare and blind the pilots). We could barely identify the
vessels. They were all either Japanese fishing ships or
freighters.
After each run was completed, we climbed above the weather to relax and
wait for the next target. We ran into a problem during the
last
vector from the Truxtun. As we were descending toward the
target,
the elevator trim system was not responding properly. The
elevator trim was heavy and I had full forward trim in and still had to
push hard against the yoke to prevent the nose from coming
up. We
broke off the vector, started the jets, reduced recip power and began a
climb (still holding pressure against the yoke). During the
climb, either the radio operator or the Julie/ECM operator, Harold
Rolls or Rich Whitlock, announced on the intercom “FIRE IN THE
AFTERSTATION.” Immediately, the plane captain (Max Lucero)
left his station between the pilots and grabbed two fire extinguishers
and flew over the wing beam toward the afterstation. The
extra life
vests that were hanging in the afterstation appeared to be on fire with
a large amount of red smoke. Max quickly extinguished the
fire.
Apparently, the manual control diverter valve was out of position and
caused all the hot air at full temperature to blow onto the life vests
which caused the Day-Night distress signals to ignite. Due
to
the
diverter valve out of position, the horizontal stabilizer was not
receiving heat which resulted in the leading edges building ice while
in the weather. The ice cleared from the horizontal
stabilizer
once the diverter valve was reset and the elevator trim system operated
normally.
We were getting low on fuel (primarily due to using the jets from time
to time) and had to return to Iwakuni as soon as practical.
We
did have some minor injuries due to the afterstation fire.
We
were due to be relieved soon (I believe by CDR Dagg’s crew,
YC-01). Needless to say, we had an eventful 10.5 hr
flight.
Later, the P2’s were sent to the southern section of the Sea of
Japan to allow shorter transits and longer on station times while the
P3’s were sent to the northern areas.

Crew YC-02 returned to Sangley Pt. on February 4, 1968 after
4 more
missions in the Sea of Japan in support of the USS Pueblo
capture.

Viet Cong Tet
Offensive

Fortunately, YC-02 crew was out of country during the beginning of the
Tet Offensive.
February 6, 1968, YC-02 returned to Vietnam, to Cam Rahn Bay due to the
Tet Offensive. On February 8, we dispatched to Tan Son Nhut
airport in Saigon to pick up CDR Maice and fly him to Cam Rahn Bay to
establish the new detachment. During the Tet Offensive that
commenced in Saigon the squadron had damage to aircraft and the
maintenance line shack and the runways received some damage.
The
hotels that the officers and enlisted were quartered in sustained major
damage. Many of our troops were caught unaware in Saigon in
Jan
30, 1968. We had people caught at various locations in
Saigon, at
different hotels, hiding in bushes, Vietamese homes, etc. It would be
very interesting to hear their stories. [nvsoar
07Jun2006]

Here's a
story of the Iwakuni Line Crew from the 66 deployment - sent by Allen
Gates

During the deployment to
Iwakuni, Japan in
1966, the line shack was seperate from the hangar. There was
a bald
spot on the little yard in front of the line shack. Boards
were put in
the ground to seperate the grass from the dirt forming a
square.
A hole was dug in the ground, and a bamboo pole was put in
the
ground to be used as a flag pole. Rocks were put on the
ground to cover
the dirt. There were poles put around the boarded area and a
rope was
attached to form a ceremonial area. Different parts were
assembled to
look like a cannon, and put in the ceremonial area. A flag
was made
with cross anchors and wings with the words " VP-2 Line " in
the
middle of the flag, and hung on the flag pole. The line flag
was raised
and lowered daily.
The people in VP-1 would pass
by the VP-2 line
shack to get from their barracks to their hanger, and then back to
their barracks. Their was a friendly competition between VP-1
and VP-2.
One evening, the
VP-2 LINE flag
was left on the flagpole, no one took the flag down for the
night.
The next morning the VP-2 Line
flag was missing.
When asked, the members of
VP-1 who passed by
the VP-2 line shack, denied taking the VP-2 Line flag, and no one in
VP-1 knew where the VP-2 LINE flag was.
Well, it seems that VP-1 had
won the Battle
Efficiency E flag, and had a meatball flag hanging above their duty
office.
One evening people from VP-2
went to the VP-1
duty office, and liberated VP-1's meatball flag, but got caught, and
had to put the flag back.
About two hours later, the
same people from
VP-2 went back to the VP-1 duty office and again liberated the VP-1
meatball flag, this time getting away with the flag.
The next morning VP-1's
meatball flag was flying on the VP-2 LINE flagpole.
When the people from VP-1 saw
their meatball
flag hanfing from the VP-2 Line flagpole, the people from VP-1 asked us
to give them their flag back.
The people from VP-1 were
informed that they
could have their meatball flag back, when we received the VP-2 Line
flag back.
The people from VP-1 denied
having the VP-2 Line flag.
We informed the people from
VP-1 that we were
keeping the meatball flag until we received the VP-2 Line flag.
And so it went, until the
Executive Officer of
VP-1, personally came to the line shack of VP-2.
The
Executive Officer of VP-1 asked us " If I give you back your flag back,
will you give me VP-1's flag back?"

We answerered the Commander by
saying "
Yes Sir." At which time the Executive Officer of
VP-1 hand
us the VP-2 LINE flag. We took down the VP-1 Meatball flag
from the
VP-2 flagpole, folded the flag, and then handed the meatball flag to
the Executive Officer of VP-1. We saluted the Executive
Officer
of VP-1, and the Executive Officer of VP-1 left the area.
We then put the VP-2 LINE flag
back on our flagpole.
When people from VP-1 would
pass by the VP-2
line shack and saw that we had our VP-2 Line flag back, we
were
asked where we got our flag from? We informed the people from
VP-1 that their Executive Officer had given it to us.
The people from VP-1 asked us
where their Executive Officer got the flag?

We informed the people from
VP-1, that we did not know, their Executive Officer didn't say.
The people from VP-1 told us
that they thought that they had hidden the VP-2 Line flag pretty well.
We informed the people of VP-1
that they
hadn't hidden the flag well enough, because their Executive Officer
somehow got ahold of the VP-2 Line flag and returned it to
us. nvsoar 17Mar2006

Dick
Seng ran across this item recently -

For all you old VP pilots out there, how long has it
been
since we were all young together?

Strangers becoming more like brothers than
friends. Sharing
things that most will never know, building bonds that are stronger than
blood.

Rolling down the runway into a formless black night,
when land
and sky are one. Only the gauges point to altitude and
life. Or into a
hot, still day, dangerously over safe single-engine weight, and lift
seems but a theory. Straining your grommet, willing the tired
bird to
climb.

Hours strapped in those hard seats, waiting for those
delicious (?)steak dinners to be passed up from the after station,
seemingly alone in the universe except for eleven other daring
airmen. Sweating the minimums at destination (can sweat
replace fuel?) GCA
through the muck, bathed in St. Elmo's ghostly
glow. On the gauges,
occasional glances outside, searching for faint lights and hopefully a
decent runway. Gear down, flaps down, whoa Nellie!
Down at last,
praying that you didn't get another tail skag, slam into reverse, YES!!!

And who can forget those dreaded post-flight intel
briefings,
and paperwork that wouldn't quit. Finally either off to the
O-Club or
to the sack. And joys that never grow old: On top of
sun-blessed
clouds, little less than gods. Or high on a clear night, a
billion
stars humbling the soul. The low-level rush, hills grabbing
for your
guts, firing off the rockets, dropping sonobuoys and once in a while
actually hearing something lurking down under the sea.

Happy hours at the club. Unplanned weekend
parties. Married
couples feeding bachelor J.O.s. Off to WestPac.
Memories of Naha and
Kadena and the Friday night Habu/Mongoose fights. Singing
"Rolling down
the runway, headed for a ditch, I looked down in the cockpit, my god,
I'm in high pitch. I pulled back on the yoke, rose up in the
air,
Glory, Glory Hallelujah, how did I get there."

Sangley Point and San Miguel, Hong Kong suits, floating
restaurants, Tiger Balm Gardens and T.Y.Lee. Fishing in
Kodiak. Rebuilding the hunting lodge. Landing in
Anchorage at midnight in broad
daylight. And who can ever forget the homeward bound flights,
the first
strains of Hawaiian music, and J. Aku Head Pupule.
Formation fly-over
Barbers Point, and the waiting wives, kids, and band.

Life on the edge brings soaring highs but also crushing
lows. Friends, so full of life, can they really be gone?
Empty BOQ rooms
bring a sad truth: fatherless kids, widows, young men who will never
grow old. Knowing that death was right around the corner but
convinced
that it would never be you. Practicing for war until the real
thing
came along. Then, the wrong war in the wrong place, fought
the wrong
way. Too many giving their all for so little good.
Does anyone remember
but those of us who loved them? The wall may be black, but the names
are golden. Now, those who remain come together in joy, the
memories
and the bonds forever strong. And, for a moment, we are all
young
together again! [nvsoar 28Jun2005]

This
memory jogger came in over
the transom. [nvsoar
27Jun2005]

ROUND
ENGINES

We gotta get
rid of those turbines, they're ruining
aviation and our hearing...
A turbine is
too simple minded, it has no
mystery. The air travels through it in a straight line and
doesn't pick up any of the pungent fragrance of engine oil or pilot
sweat.
Anybody can
start a turbine. You just need to
move a switch from "OFF" to "START" and then remember to move it back
to "ON" after a while. My PC is harder to start.
Cranking a
round engine requires skill, finesse and
style. You have to seduce it into starting. It's
like
waking up a horny mistress. On some planes, the pilots
aren't
even allowed to do it...
Turbines
start by whining for a while, then give a
lady-like poof and start whining a little louder.
Round engines
give a satisfying rattle-rattle,
click-click, BANG, more rattles, another BANG, a big macho FART or two,
more clicks, a lot more smoke and finally a serious low pitched
roar. We like that. It's a GUY thing...
When you
start a round engine, your mind is engaged
and you can concentrate on the flight ahead. Starting a
turbine
is like flicking on a ceiling fan: Useful, but, hardly
exciting.
When you have
started his round engine successfully
your crew chief looks up at you like he'd let you kiss his girl
too!
Turbines
don't break or catch fire often enough,
leading to aircrew boredom, complacency and inattention.
A round
engine at speed looks and sounds like it's
going to blow any minute. This helps concentrate the
mind!
Turbines
don't have enough control levers or gauges
to keep a pilot's attention. There's nothing to fiddle with
during long flights.
Turbines
smell like a Boy Scout camp full of Coleman
Lamps. Round engines smell like God intended machines to
smell.

Typical North Pacific conditions while rigging - in this case a Soviet
warship (Type?)

Joe
Ryan recollects his Whidbey fishing adventures After returning from
Iwakuni in Feb of
'59, we were able to pursue more of our water sport activities as
summer approached. Among these were skin and scuba diving.
Only four or five of us had the full
equipment
necessary to engage in this exciting and challenging endeavor, but they
were gracious enough to share their suits and tanks with the rest of
us. The suits shown in the picture were
called "dry
suits" as "wet suits" were just being introduced. The dry
suits
were not insulated and that made it difficult to stay in the cold Puget
Sound waters for very long, but we were all "hot blooded" young bucks
and didn't seem to mind a little hypothermia.
We always dived from the shore because
we had not
boat, still we always seemed to have good luck locating plenty of fish
to harvest. These fish supplied many a fish fry for the
squadron
and also found their way into the freezers of our married shipmates.
To my memory, most of the fish we
speared were Ling
Cod, Rock Cod and Sea Bass. They varied in weight from four
to
eight pounds. With one hour of air in each tank we usually
cam
home with twenty or so fish. My
contribution was usually puny
because, for the
life of me, I couldn't see those camouflaged little buggers hiding in
the rocks on the bottom. I was also too busy looking over my
shoulder for that man eating shark or "Blackfish", aka Killer
Whale. We never encountered any, but we occasionally saw an
octopus. Most if the time we swam in
fifty feet
of water or
less so we never had to decompress before returning to the
surface. Anyway, there was no reason to go deeper with so
many
fish available just offshore. Our favorite places
were the ferry docking piers
at the
ends of Whidbey Island. Small fish hung around those
pilings,
and
they would draw in the larger predator fish.
Featured in the picture are ten of our
VP2
shipmates, six of which are members of our association. From
left
to right - Dave Finley, Arley Hamilton, Ray Bryant, GB Holt, Mike
Willmot, Joe Ryan, Red Noel, Tex Givens, Bill "Ski" Zambriskhi and a
skinny Mike O'Gara.

You couldn't beat a Saturday afternoon
fish fry at
Chief Fisher's home. Plenty of cold beer and fried fish,
fresh
from the sea and hot off the grill. Yum!
Joe. [nvsoar 20Apr2005]

Have
you found your baggage yet?By Bob Champoux
During one of my many phone calls
recruiting folks
to join the VP-2 Association, I happened to call Jim Swift.
As
soon as I introduced myself, he asked if “I had found my luggage yet?
Memories that sometimes you wish you
could forget
came flooding back! Early one morning
in 1969, Crew One
launched YC-01
out of Sangley Point for an in-country stint at Cam Rahn Bay.
We were
loaded with not only our luggage for a 2-3 week period but also
urgently needed spare parts and supplies for the Detachment at Cam Rahn
Bay. After lifting off, I called “Gear
UP”
and …… nothing
happened! “Flaps UP” didn’t work either. A little
bit of
troubleshooting indicated that we had lost electrical control of the
hydraulic system but the basic hydraulics were working fine.
A
nuisance problem since we could activate flaps and landing gear using
the manual overrides on the hydraulic valves located in the manifold in
the tunnel to the bow station. We decided to push on because
the parts
were urgently needed and because landing at Cam Rahn wouldn’t be much
of a problem (nice weather, coupled with a wide 13,000’ runway so
reverse and nose wheel steering for directional control and taxiing
would work just fine).
As we approached Cam Rahn, I decided to
“dirty up”
early and had our plane captain (who shall remain nameless) to go
below
and lower the flaps to 15 - 20 degrees by holding the valve for several
seconds. He came up from below and I asked him why he hadn’t
dropped the flaps (no pitch change); he went back down and within a
short while, I noticed the pitch change associated with the flaps being
down. A few minutes later we dropped
the
landing gear
using the same procedure. I “greased”
the partial flaps landing,
reversed to a
stop (no pedal brakes) and taxied into the VP-2 line. As I
was
approaching the designated parking spot on the line, the taxi director
had a quizzical look on his face as he crossed his wands for us to stop
(with the parking brake). We crawled
out of the airplane and were
standing
around talking to the folks that had greeted us when the Squadron
pickup truck rolled up and we were asked “where’s the baggage and the
parts?”
Everyone in the crew looked at each
other and then
at the airplane and then we noticed that the Bomb bay doors were
open. This wasn’t so unusual except for the fact that we had
loaded all of the luggage and parts on (the partially opened) Bombay
doors at Sangley Point. The normal procedure would have been
to
partially re-open them after we were parked using the auxiliary
electric motor control in order to remove the “cargo” without it
falling to the tarmac. The quizzical
look on the taxi
director’s face was
because this was the first time that he had ever directed in a P-2V
with the doors already open. It
suddenly hit us! We had landed the airplane with the Bombay
doors
open! A quick look at the back end of the doors
showed no
damage; (the clearance between the ground and the open doors is very
minimal; had I landed nose up (full flaps) or had a solid “carrier
navy” landing and fully compressed the struts, we would have ground off
the back of the doors. Remember
when I asked for 20
Flaps and didn’t
sense the pitch change? The plane captain inadvertently
activated
the Bomb Bay doors hydraulic valve: LUGGAGE AWAY into the South China
Sea!
And now the rest of the story
……
The US Army issued the entire crew
several sets of
uniforms; skivvies, etc. Brand new fatigues, Army
insignia.
Really cool! But…. the Army
was also responsible for
patrolling
the beaches of the Cam Rahn Bay Peninsula. After a
few
days, our skivvies (very properly stenciled) and pieces of our luggage
started washing up on the Beach. The Army had great fun and
made
a very big deal” out of returning this “stuff” to us. (My
B-4
bag
floated up complete with the handle, the outer frame, my name tag, and
absolutely nothing else). “Have you
found your luggage
yet?”
[nvsoar 08Dec2004]

James
Alsop
(VPB-130) submitted
this article with his personal recollection of the sinking of U-615 off
Curacao in August 1943. [nvsoar 28Nov2004]

Doug: There is considerable more detail
involving
the demise of one surfaced U-boat than is summarized here below in the
Historical section of VP-2. Perhaps this is too long but
this
is
how it went, blow by blow. 6 Aug 1943:
Lieutenant Holmes and his
crew sank the
German submarine, U-615, commanded by Kaptainleutnant Ralph
Kapitzky. The submarine was caught on the surface in the
Caribbean southeast of Curacao and damaged badly enough by the bombs to
prevent it from submerging. Unable to escape, the German
crew
scuttled the vessel. Forty-five of the U-boat's crew of 49
were
rescued by U.S. Navy vessels.
VB-130 was operating out of Xeres runway
under the
jurisdiction of the U S Army Air Corp 32nd Bombardment Group located in
Trinidad, B. W. I. The nearest naval
base was Port Of Spain,
Trinidad. Crew #5, Lt (jg) Ted
Holmes(*), Pilot, Ens. Robert L. Tonner,
Co-pilot, Jens Oli Madsen(*), AMM 2/c, Plane Captain, Ken Healy, AOM
3/c Tail gunner and James R. Alsop, ARM 3/c Radio/Radarman.
The
crew was ordered out to engage a surfaced U-boat, however; the stand-by
aircraft failed and another aircraft (PV-1 #33227) was loaded and
started out on it's mission. Some rather extensive time
after
take off, an LTA was spotted on the scene wherein the U-boat was
operating. We immediately switched over to wing tanks and
dropped
our two auxiliary tanks, one hanging from each
wing.
Their were two PBM's on duty and the
submarine was
fully surfaced and fully armed with AA and machine guns. A
coordinated attack was planned which called for PBM's to attack with
their machine guns to aid the PV-1 in making it's bombing
run.
The attack was successful and Holmes made a perfect straddle with the
depth charges. On the way in the U-boats fire power
successfully
removed the PV-1 antenna mast. Our speed was 308 knots and
the
U-boat was not used to tracking an aircraft at that speed, however;
their tracers were right overhead. Now disabled, the
submarine
had slowed from about 10 knots down to 2 knots and could only do figure
eights as her steering mechanism had been damaged. Subsequent
attacks
were carried out, the next or second attack resulted in the death of
the pilot of one of the PBM's when he was struck in the chest with
incendiaries. At that instant he hit the pickle switch and
dropped his bombs which fell short. His alert co-pilot
grabbed
the controls which saved the ship and crew from sudden death.
The
Chief AMM, standing next to his pilot tried frantically to put out the
smoking incendiaries imbedded in the chest of the pilot.
Somewhere during the engagement, one of the PBM's had been killed with
it's crew of eleven. The LTA continued to seek permission to
attack the submarine, however; it would have been it's death due to the
size and slowness of the LTA. She would later be destroyed
by
the
upcoming storm after seeking a mooring site on an uninhabited
island.
Crew #5 continued it's attacks on the
U-boat until
fuel supplies ran extremely low. We dropped our trailing
antenna
and sent a signal out to any vessel or shore station for a final
bearing before leaving. A encoded position and
situation
report had already been sent out and it was later learned that the U S
S Walker was dispatched from her task force, which included the U S S
Bunker Hill, headed for the Panama Canal on her way to the Pacific
theatre. The usual cruel and bad weather was rapidly moving
in
and it was impossible to get an RDF as each bearing varied from 160
degrees to as much as 240 degrees. No two bearings ever the
same.
We were hopelessly lost until a very thin line was seen on the 90 mile
radar range. We "guessed" that it was land as a rain storm
would
not provide that rather sharp but very thin line. It had to
be
the coast of Venezuela with it's rich bauxite deposits along the coast
line. Bearing on the upper left portion of the radar screen
meant
we were headed in the wrong direction. After some
navigational
corrections we later passed over the light house on the island of
Granada. Beautiful sight, that light. (Tonner
would
meet
the grandson of the light house keeper many years later).
The
next challenge was to find and get through the pass which was the only
way to our runway. It popped up rather frightfully as the
radar
was dropped down to the ten mile range, just seconds away from hitting
the mountain on the right. Turn port 45 degrees scream still
resounds through out that PV-1. Touching down at the runway,
we
tabulated that we had been out 6.9 hours, two of which were in total
darkness and with a great deal of apprehension as to our safe
return. One other Ventura made it in shortly thereafter but
running out of fuel right as they touched down.
Story climax?
Kaptainlieutenant Kapinsky
ordered his crew into their life boats the next morning after spotting
the Walker headed toward them. He would then take his boat
down
and still remains there to this day. The Bunker Hill would
be
tragically put out of action shortly after arriving in the
Pacific. Some 178 men were buried at sea, including my two
shipmates from ARM school in 1942, Potter and Toothacker, who flew with
the squadron commander. They had flown into Xeres runway and
tried to get me a slot with the SBD squadron as I was a radioman and
gunner, however; no vacancies. They were in TBM's but the
radioman's tight quarters did not appeal to me, right behind the
torpedoes and in the tail of the planes belly.
(*) Known deceased. Tonner
lives in Braintree,
MA and Healy in Texas

Humor in the
Military and a Tale
of an ORI
Robert E. Wolfe, Captain, US Navy Retired

You may have to hunt to find or appreciate the humor in this short
story about one small segment of my Military Life.
Military Life is a series of training events designed to trigger a
specific response when called upon to do so. It is a
continuous
never ending process. No matter where or when one plugs in
to
the
system, all are challenged to develop skills and are expected to
contribute to this thing we call “Mission Readiness”. In
other
words, are we prepared as a squadron, a department, a flight crew, an
aircraft mechanic or a pilot to do the job that we were hired and being
paid for?

That is a rather simplistic overview of what “Operational Readiness
Inspections” (ORI’s) are all about. Up and down the
chain-of-command senior leaders must continuously be aware of the
capabilities of the military units under their sphere of
influence. Thus the requirement to inspect and be
inspected.
Training tends to run in cycles all leading up to “deployments” where
military forces might be needed throughout the
universe.
This can range from routine “presence” situations to actual combat
operations. There is no magic crystal ball that accurately
predicts specific requirements in advance. We must be
“ready”
for
all eventualities what ever they may be.
The time frame of my story is the early 1960’s. That era is
sometimes referred to as the “cold war”. The
threat
of a
Nuclear confrontation delivered from Soviet submarines was
real. Our
mission of anti-submarine warfare(ASW) was designed to minimize that
possibility from ever occurring.

ORI’s are conducted with a plan called an “Operation Order”.
In
essence they are the rules for a mini “war game”. As the ASW
Officer in the Operations Department of Patrol Squadron Two I was
intimately familiar with the contents of the Op Order.
Among other things the Op Order contained specific
instructions
as to how the ORI would be cancelled if a real-life operational
requirement developed during the time frame of the ORI.
ORI’s are very thorough inspections of all aspects of squadron
operations, including academic testing of aircraft knowledge, tactical
procedures and identification of military ships, aircraft and
submarines. They include actual off shore patrols simulating
wartime scenarios.

As plane commander of Crew Eight, we launched on a scheduled ten hour
patrol in a SP-2H aircraft. Prior to launching we conducted
a
“loading drill” of a nuclear weapon which was one of our warfare
options. On board the aircraft was a “staff” observer to
grade
and evaluate the performance of each of the twelve flight crew
members.
As I best remember, the patrol was more or less routine, in our
attempts locate and identify a U.S. Navy submarine acting as
an
adversary for this ORI. This involved dropping listening
devices
in the water and flying perhaps as low as 100 feet over the water
attempting to pick up a magnetic deflection on our detection
equipment.
We had several methods of communicating with the Operations Control
Center (OPCON) back on Whidbey Island Our radio
operator
reported a message from OPCON to cancel our ORI mission and to proceed
to specific coordinates for an operational requirement.
Being a war game, I assumed this message to be a communications
deception ploy. I elected to so inform the observer and
ignored
the message. OPCON messages continued to flow almost
becoming
frantic. Knowing that a specific OPORDER signal was required
to
cancel the ORI mission, I was confident the war game was still in play
as we continued our search for the ORI sub.
It was not long before we received a coded message to proceed to
another mission. This complicated my decision making process
for
if it was still war gaming that meant that the code books had been
compromised. I found it difficult to discount the fact that
we
had not received the OPORDER signal to cancel the ORI
mission.
The OPCON messages became almost hostile with my refusal to
respond. It seemed to be panic time back at
OPCON.
After a lengthy discussion with our staff observer, I decided to revert
to the code books and follow their instructions, not certain whether or
not this action might result in a failing grade for this ORI
mission.
My memory of the operational diversion is vague except that we never
located the contact that OPCON had directed us to prosecute.
Our return to Whidbey Island Naval Air Station was anything but routine
after landing. Needless to say my Commanding Officer was not
a
happy camper. He obviously had been hassled by the Admiral
regarding one of his pilots who refused to follow orders.
The OPCON debriefing session was also interesting. The OPCON
officer who had written the OPORDER was furious.
The fact
that he forgot to send the cancel signal did not seem to temper his
behavior. It seemed that everyone involved was unhappy with
my
decision to play by the rules. I am not certain at all, how
close
I came to becoming fodder on that day.
The story should normally end here but several months later it was time
for me to rotate to a new assignment. You might find it
amusing
to learn that my next set of orders was to relieve that OPCON Officer
who failed to understand the rules that he had written.
One of the duties of the OPCON Officer was to prepare and deliver a
daily brief to the senior officers on the staff. After my
turn of
being front and center I normally retired to the back of the room which
was elevated so that my view included the backs of the heads of those
being briefed.
Almost without exception, the Admirals and Chiefs of Staff had
noticeable bald spots on the top of their heads.
Thinking
perhaps that might be a requirement to be promoted to more senior
assignments I considered hair removal options to enhance my
qualifications for positions of increased
responsibility.
The good Lord must have known that I was not Admiral material for I
still basically have a full head of
hair.
05Oct2004

Dewey
Mawson (VP2 50-52) recalls
the 15Jun1951 Kodiak Incident:
Unckefure (I can't remember how to spell
his name)
and I were assigned to lower the depth charges from a plane returning
from Adak. A wide ditch had been excavated across the end of
the
runway with the dirt piled on the side closest to the road.
We
thought it was odd that it wa left like that with no warning signs or
flagging. We could see where planes had crossed over the
road
and
to the clearing beyond, maybe about 50 yards. We were
waiting
in
a small shack with the two men who were to take the charges to storage.
The plane came down through the clouds,
landed and
immediately used reverse pitch. We commented that they did
not
have much runway left. The plane went behind the low hills
and we
lost sight of it. The we saw the smoke. We
arrived
at the
same time as a Marine. The plane was parallel and right over
the
ditch, pointing to the left. Some of the crew was just
outside
the plane and the first words I heard was Chester Mclain yelling,
"Dewey, where the hell's the meat wagon."
There was about a two foot space between
the ditch
and the plane. Chief ?? was lying on his back at the edge of
the
ditch. He yelled at us to get him away before the plane blew
up. We pulled him along the ground by his parachute harness
to
where I had parked the truck. We were watching the crash
crew
at
the front of the plane trying to get to the cockpit. Someone
said
"I hope the 20's don't start going off."
Then I was asked to why didn't I take
the Chief to
the hospital. I said that I wouldn't take anyone unless they
could walk. Then Robert Houck got in and said "Take
me." I
made a mistake and drove around the plane where all the smoke was and I
couldn't see a thing - thought I was going to hit something.
Bob
didn't look too bad, but he was complaining about his leg.
At
the
hospital, I was watching the nurse as she was cutting Bob's pants leg
when she said that I had better leave. The fire had gone up
Bob's
leg and it had to be amputated. If I
remember right, there wasn't much
left of the
plane, only the wing tips and tail section. I wonder if the
pilot
go any commendation for probably saving the lives of his
crew. He
came out of the clouds to a short runway, then the base of the mountain
was ahead of him, then that ditch the should not have been.
I
guess at the last instant he went to this left and skidded into the
ditch. I went to the hospital that
evening -
Bob and the
Chief were asleep. I don't remember if anyone else was
there. I only remember two members of the crew - Chester
Mclain,
Ordnanceman, and Robert Houck. Recently, I found out that
Phillip
Warren was also a crewman on that ship.
Dewey Mawson (AO3, VP2 50-52;
FASRON 119 at
Saipan
49-50)

Thanks Dewey. Phil Warren reports on VPNavy.com that
"Mr. Sevier, our PPC was killed, Bob Houk, 2nd Mech badly
injured, as was
our
plane captain, whose name I can't recall. The rest of us had
minor
injuries and returned to crew duty, picking up a new P2V-4 at the
factory."
nvsoar
13July4004

From Bob Champoux
with Larry Doyle,
19Feb2004From the
Frying Pan into
the Fire; A very long week on YC-08 and then some liberty

Patrol Squadron Two was involved in
Market Time
flights out of Tan Son Nhut (Saigon) in ’67-‘68. I was
serving as
a co-pilot and navigator on our P2V Neptune along with Larry Doyle on
Crew 8. Market Time flights ran 9 – 12 hours and involved
low
altitude maritime and/or ELINT reconnaissance either around the west
side of Vietnam up toward Cambodia or on the east side up into the
Tonkin Gulf. We typically flew every other night until our
flight
time well exceeded the allowable maximum and then rotated back to
Sangley Point (near Manila) for a few weeks.
There was always some grousing between
the Ops
officer and the Flight Surgeon concerning flight hours. Just
to
get even, the “Doc” would frequently ground flight crews for excessive
flight hours the morning following their return to Sangley Point from
Tan Son Nhut. When “in-country”, our
flight crews
lived in a very
small hotel in Saigon, not far from the Palace. The tap
water
would give you dysentery even if you used it to rinse out your
toothbrush. (We had several cases of Mateus wine (25 cents
per
quart) stacked in the bathroom for such purposes.) The front
door
to the hotel was bunkered and we had a local Vietnamese guard who
always said that if he didn’t show up in the morning that “Bad trouble
would be a happening."
One day he didn’t show up. It
was the
beginning of the ’67 Tet Offensive. We soon learned that the
Viet
Cong had mortared our maintenance line shack at Ton Son Nhut during the
evening hours (fortunately no one was in it). We decided
that
it
would be prudent if we took our airplane and crew back to
Sangley. The runway had a big hole in it so we took off from
the
taxiway (love those big tires on a Neptune!).
Half way to “feet wet” at Vung Tau, the
Air Force
controller called to tell us that we were in the middle of an intensive
artillery fire zone and directed us to immediately climb to 30,000 feet
to clear! After we explained that YC-08 was an ancestor of
the
Truculent Turtle, he advised us to “hold present position” until the
firefight was over …sure, circling, sitting Duck at 4,000
feet!
Thanks, Air Force, but we’ll take our chances proceeding straight ahead
with “two turning and two burning” at 305 knots indicated.
So
we
said goodbye to Saigon and left for Sangley Point and a “for sure”
grounding chit in the morning from the flight surgeon for very
excessive flight time. We got back at
Sangley in time to unpack
and have
dinner. The officers retreated to the ‘O Club and the crew
went
in to Cavite. About two gin and tonics later, the duty
officer
found the officers and told us that we needed to round up the crew and
“go flying.”

“But, but, but, ……we’ve been drinking”
“Doesn’t matter”
“We’ve got way too much flight time, we are going to be grounded by the
Doc in the morning.”
“It isn’t morning yet”
“The crew is in Cavite, we’ll never find them”
“The Shore Patrol is already on it”
Where are we going?”
“Iwakuni”
Why?
“Don’t know why but it’s a DEFCON
situation”
How long are we going to be gone?”
“Don’t know that either.”
What’s the weather supposed to be like?
“Snow showers!” (We’d been flying in the
tropics for
months!)

A few hours later we were on the way to
Iwakuni. It was wintertime and got colder as we headed
north. We hadn’t used the heaters on the aircraft since we
left
Whidbey and they refused to work. Some of the crew popped
parachutes to stay warm. Arrived in a snow squall at 0200
and
were told to be back at 0530 for a briefing and a 0700
takeoff.
We still had no idea of what was up.
After only a few hours sleep, we headed
back to the
airplane. When we arrived, we found rusty conventional depth
charges already hung on the wing stations and the airplane surrounded
by marines with M-16’s at the ready, guarding the weapon contents of
the bomb bays. This was very, very, serious!
“Who has the check lists and who
remembers how to
use them?”
At the briefing, we learned about the
capture of the
USS Pueblo and that we would be the first maritime patrol aircraft on
station in the Sea of Japan for ASW and Patrol operations.
”Does anyone
remember how to catch a submarine?”
We flew every day for about a week until
relieved by
P-3 squadrons from Moffett. The Ruskies cooperated and gave
us a
number of contacts to keep it interesting. Fortunately the
flights were only about seven hours long because the bomb bay fuel
tanks had to be removed to accommodate our “special” internal ordinance
load. From the frying pan of the Tet
Offensive
into the
Fire of the Pueblo Offensive all in 24 hours and for the rest of the
week! P.S. The Doc
hopped
a flight to Iwakuni
and grounded us for excessive flight time for the next week of very
tough duty – R&R on per diem in Japan.

From Harley "Rock" Cline,
04Feb2004
I was in the squadron from 67-68. I was an Airman and worked
out
of the 1st Lt.'s division under Master Chief Newberry. When
we
deployed to Sangley Point, PI I worked with a 3rd glass by the name of
Easely and they called him " Easy." We built the
coffee
mess in a little building down by the Marine Club. This was
just
temporary and we later moved it to a more accessible area.
Shortly before our deployment was over I had to return to Whidbey
Island because of a family emergency. I was transfered into
VP-42, which was the squadron that relieved VP-2 from their deployment,
so I went back over with VP-42. This gave me the chance to
serve
with Chief Horn who, I understand has passed on. Chief Horn
and I
served with VP-42 until we were decommissioned at Whidbey Island on
9-30-69.
In VP-2 there was a guy that was trying to be a boxer and it
seems to me that his name was Mueki or something like that.
He
was Hawaiian. If I remember correctly the skipper
was
Lt.Com. Navero.
I ended my time in the Navy at N.A.S. Whidbey Island as part
of the
Coupeville crash crew as an ABH-3.
Just another little bit of information; many of the P-2s are being
converted into slurry plains for firefighting. This is done
by Hawkins
and Powers Aviation which is located about 125 miles from me in
Wyoming. I make it down there at least twice a year just to
look
things over. Many of the planes look just like they did back
in
VP-2's heyday. If you would like to see some pictures of the
before and after thier transformation into slurry bombers let me know
and I will gladly send them to you.
Thanks for your time and great effort that you are doing to keep the
squadron alive.
Harley ( Rock ) Cline

From Ted
Langs,
24Dec2003
Hi fellow shipmates: I joined VP-2 in 1955 just as they were getting
the P2V-7's and preparing all hands to train in them. We
were
getting ready for deployment to Alaska; Kodiak, Adak and a few other
points up north. I was assigned to shepherd Crew 9 as Plane
Capt
and my PPC was Ltjg Booth. I have a picture of the crew
somewhere
in the house and will forward to the group when I find it.
Training was rather intense as we were following an another VP outfit
that had an AC shot down by the Russians on St. Lawrence
Island.
It was a little hairy thinking about it but not thinking about it made
the days skim by. We made an early trip up to Kodiak in late
August to fam our crews with Alaska and Kodiak in particular.
Had
a great time fishing and smoking same while we were there.
Flying
back to Whidbey Island we ran into an early winter storm, and that told
us what to expect later on.
My wife and I and one son lived in Title VIII housing just outside the
main gate and enjoyed the beautiful area of Whidbey and the surrounding
mountains. We had a lot of friends in Whidbey but at my
age. I can't remember all the names and that goes for my
flight
crew as well. My second mechanic came from Germany to join
the
service and is one of the best guys I have worked with.
Maybe
he
will show up one day on this page of Patron 2 memories.
After
our
deployment and a mere year of duty with Patron 2 I received orders to
Moffet field and was assigned to a training fighter Sq.. Not
a
long tour with VP-2 but very interesting. Our whole crew
received
combat aircrew wings while on deployment after intense training and we
all enjoyed the adding the CA to our rating. Enjoyed hearing
about VP-2 and its travels.
Best Regard,
Ted Langs ADR2CA; now ADJC-CA (RET

From Phrana Komm,
04 Oct 2003
Having never lived away from my
parents until I married, I was a young bride who left Missouri and went
west to San Diego where Bob was stationed at NAS North Island for
several months. In Feb 1961 we headed north to NAS Whidbey
Island, VP-2; Good friends Bob (VP-2) and Carol Bender preceeded us and
were already settled in a rental home in Oak Harbor.
I remember traveling on the winding 1D
road across
Deception Pass (in a gloomy cold rain - imagine that) and wondering
what the future would hold. The Pass was breathtakingly
beautiful, and such intense greenery. In Missouri all
foliage
had
long since fallen off the trees and only lonely bare branches bravely
challenged the wintery blasts.
At that time Bob was an Ensign and it
was such an
exciting adventure of heart throbbing love for me. We stayed
with
Bob and Carol Bender until we found a house at 4338 40th Northwest -
foreclosure in litigation; some furniture and dishes were
included. At this house we had much fun, lots of
laughs.
One evening in particular, I remember Cliff & Pat Ledbetter,
Bob
and Carol Bender, along with several others who all met with us to do
assignments of the Navy Regulations Book. I did a lot of
those. Unaccustomed to the damp, cold penetrating climate, I
kept
piling logs on the already roaring fire in fireplace. I also
turned up the thermostat, and soon the guys removed their outer shirts
as they were sweating profusely. Finally Cliff Ledbetter
asked me
if I was cold!!!!!
The first time I met Commanding Officer
Bill Foster
and his precious wife Paula was at an inspection. Remember I
had
never lived away from home, just turned 19 years old, did not drink at
all, and was lonely to meet friends, as all of us were. Bill
and
Paula Foster encircled me in their arms and told me I reminded me of
their daughter. I think the daughter had not been away from
them
very long - but they missed her, and I loved receiving the Foster's
hugs.
There were so many that gave me such
good memories
in the time my hubby was in the squadron - Feb 1961 - June
1964.
We lived in Title VIII Housing and Chief's Housing at Ault Field and
developed friendships particularly there with Don &
Bonnie
Howe, Vic & Pat Gulliver, Dick & Barb Guter, Chuck
& Bobbi
Peterson, Wes & Lyn Lupien, Ralph & Joanne
Chandler. Get
togethers included dinners, religious discussions, fishing trips to
Cranberry Lake and Deception Pass (Lupiens and we went on a VP-2
Cocktail Party night - orders to be there unless sick or dead--we were
badies) and card parties. A Title VIII event when Whidbey
received one of its few remembered snowfalls found the Guters, Komms,
and several others making a huge decorated snowman and coloring him
with kool-aid. As Dick Guter ran down the hill to escape the
barrage of snowballs he fell on their steel trash can lid located by
each apt door and probably injured his knee, but all we could do was
roll with laughter.
Phrana went to work on the Seaplane Base
as a Gov't
"sandcrab" just a few days before Bob went on his first deployment -
Kodiak. She moved in with Carol Bender and they coped
together
while the guys were gone for a long 5 1/2 months. Phrana
continued to work on the base in different positions until Bob's third
deployment to Alaska when she and her mama drove Bob & Phrana's
1957 sierra gold stick shift Chevy sport coupe to Missouri, but her
favorite job was as Secretary for the Senior Medical Officer at the
Station Hospital. The sailors played volleyball on their
lunch
hours and it was not long until she joined them - what fun and good
exercise. The Medical team was an excellent field to further
serve others wherever needed.
Good memories Phrana has of many
evenings spent with
Joanne Chandler when our guys were gone. In fact Phrana flew
to
see the latter several times as well as the Guters wherever they were
stationed. Bob had to stay at home and work. I
believe that
it takes special people to serve our country well through the thick and
the thin. Behind the guys have stood many fine women with
their
prayers and their steadfast support. I had the privilege of
becoming acquainted with several of those in Bob's tour of
VP-2:
Ed and Jane Schneider, Jimmy & Betsy Pugh, Dave &
Connie Bowen,
Wayne & Shirley Cowen, Ron & Rosemary Demich, Jerry
&
Sharon Russell.
The first squadron party we attended
occurred on a
blustery evening at Rocky Point. Everyone took their own
meat
to
cook on charcoal grills which had to be brought inside due to high
winds. The smoke was so thick that our eyes burned for
days. I had taken a ceramic container for our "pop" because
it
"looked" better than a bottle. Bob Bender sampled it first
and
spit it out - "Tastes like soap," so evidently, Mr. Clean was
still in
the spigot. Joe Chruma sat next to me, and I still can see
that
"4" roast he was eating that he called a steak."

Some of you may have remembered picking
10 cent
strawberries at Anacortes in the huge fields. Bob &
I
had a
homemade ice cream and strawberries party for the Ralph
Chandler
family one Sunday afternoon.
Presently, we still hear from some of you; those friendships
have spanned a long time. Even though our lives have marched
on
and drastically changed from those "young" growing years, I like to
think we are continuing to grow and to mature. Your
friendships
have been a blessing to me, and as my hair turns more silver I value
you even more. Thanks for letting me share a few memories
from my
storehouse of years gone by.

From Alex,
02 Oct 2003,
The Midway Trip [anyone have a picture of a "Sibir"?_nvsoar]

I got a call from Sherm to get in the air as fast as we could to get us
to Adak. YC-4 was coming out of check and Sherm told me to
make
sure I made a test flight prior to going to Adak. We, Crew
Four, were
on the runway a little short of two hours. The weather was
very lousy,
no way a little illegal for a test flight. Just before
pulling
the nose wheel of the runway I told the tower to tell the VP-2 duty
office that the test flight was complete.

When we got to Adak, Paul Tripp, the O in C of the detachment, said he
had no idea why were there. He had nothing for us at least
at
two, maybe three days. We closed the bar. At 0400
I
was
awakened and told that we had a takeoff at 0600 to be a airborne
backup. Then stop at Shemya for a fuel topoff, and then
takeoff
at 1200. Everyone was looking for the Sibirs, the Russian
trawlers that tracked the missiles that the Russians were testing
then.
We found them, and after reporting, were told to go to Midway since we
would not be able to get into Adak and we would not have enough fuel
for an alternate. When we got there, the CO and another crew
was
already there, plus six crews from VP-22.
I don't remember when the CO and the other crew went back to Adak, but
we were told to stay until we just short of another check on the
aircraft. We flew 3 or 4 flights, we flew 8 hrs, VP-22 flew
8
hrs, and that was the way it went. VP-2 with one aircraft
would
fly a mission and VP-22 would fly one mission. We would find
the
trawlers each time and VP-22 would lose them.
The last flight we made, we reported their location. Midway
kept
asking us to report and each time we would "ZNB" the
location.
Finally I told Chesnutt to sent "ZNB FU" or something like
that.
When we reported to Midway tower at 100 miles out they asked for the
location. I didn't give it to them. When we
landed,
the
taxi jeep had someone get into the aircraft from the squadron
to
get the location, who gave it to a VP-22 aircraft waiting for
takeoff.
VP-22 sent a message to the staff, Alaskan Sea ( whatever) and asked
for permission for Crew Four to stay over my check time. They
came back
with "Return my aircraft to my control now", or words to that effect.

During the deployment to Iwakuni,
Japan
in the
winter of
1958, we were returning from a Sea of Japan
surveillance
flight at night in heavy rain. The
PPC
was in the left seat. I
was the crew
navigator but was riding as co-pilot in the right seat. The GCA was smooth, the touchdown was
beautiful and, although it was raining really hard, we were on
centerline and
rolling out normally. The
PPC applied
the reverse thrust and got us pretty well slowed down. When he took it out of reverse we started a
distinct drift to the left. I
could see
the PPC had put in full right rudder and right braking. The drift continued and we departed the
runway and began bouncing across the infield. When
we were off the paved runway, the braking took effect
and we
turned back toward the runway. I
thought
we were going to get back onto the runway. Wrong!
The nose wheel hit a ditch that had been dug
to install new field
lighting. The nose
wheel broke off and
the nose plowed into the mud. The
stop
was abrupt, but, since we weren’t going very fast so it wasn’t too
violent.

The crew evacuated the aircraft ok except that the
Ordnanceman stepped out the after hatch in the darkness and found that
the
ground was eight or ten feet down rather than the normal four feet.

It was found that there was a
short in the
electrical
control of the reversing system and when the PPC took it out of
reverse, one
engine returned to forward thrust and the other stayed in reverse.
There was enough
differential thrust on the
wet runway to cause the aircraft to leave the runway.

Ten
years later, at a base in the Central
Highlands of Viet Nam,
an Army crew flying a P-2 was landing
in heavy rain. As
the pilot took it out
of reverse, the plane commenced a drift, left the runway hitting an
obstruction
and broke off the nose wheel. I
was
deployed to CamRahnBay
with Brand X
Patrol Squadron
and was asked to go investigate the Army accident. It took about 15 minutes after arrival to see
what had happened thanks to my Iwakuni experience.

From
Vic
Gulliver, 17 Sep 2003Seeing the overhead shots of NS
Kodiak on the
Gallery reminds me of the time during the '61 deployment that Gayle
McKinney and I and minimum crew were out practicing approaches and
landings on a clear VFR day. We were only a few hundred
yards
from touchdown on whichever runway it is that has
Mt. Barometer at
the other end, when a small civilian flying-club
plane obliviously
taxied onto the runway right in front of us. On an IFR day,
we
would have been committed to land because wave-offs are not an option
in IFR weather. We did wave-off, and because the weather was
clear, we were able to weave our way through the mountains until we
were high enough to turn back around to land. Even
with the
clear weather, there was some puckering involved at max power until we
were sure we were going to make it.

The top
Kodiak photo also shows the beginning of the Buskin River, which is
still one of the best and easiest places to fish for Coho salmon in
September. I used to tell my family about how bad life
was on deployment in Kodiak, but now my sons and I
try to get
back there every September for the salmon fishing. The salmon don't come in from the ocean by the
tens of
thousands anymore, and intentionally snagging them is a punishable
offense. There is a modern motel (The Buskin River
Inn) just
across the parking lot from the airline terminal on what is now the
Coast Guard Air Station. The Buskin River runs right behind
the
motel, although that isn't the best place to fish.
We rent a
car and drive further downstream. During the September
spawning
season, you can also drive upstream to Buskin Lake, where the trout are
gorging themselves on salmon eggs. You can catch hungry
trout
until it gets boring, then go back downstream for more
salmon.
Although there aren't many on that side of the island, they do report
an occasional Kodiak bear in the Buskin River feeding on the
salmon.

The
town of Kodiak is nothing at all like it was during the early sixties
when we deployed there. Kodiak is a major metropolis built
to
support the huge fishing/crabbing fleet that works there.
They've
got all the franchise restaurants, fine-dining restaurants, department
stores, grocery stores, art galleries, etc. that you would
expect in a
booming city. Except for the winter weather, one could live
a
comfortable life there. It's a nice place to
visit... in the
summertime! I'd like to hear (read) some stories by people
who
were there for the earthquake and tsunami in '64. Click on
the
picture for a larger image.

From Larry Gire, 09Sep2003We got the P2V-4s in Nov. of 1950 and flew them until we got the -5's in May of 1952.I have flights in my log book in 124245 from June 1951 through April 1952. We weredeployed with the -4's from June to December of 1951 during the Korean War at Kodiakand Naha Okinawa. I flew in the Ops Officer's crew in BUNO 124246 mostly, but we flewpatrols in each other's aircraft. Max Bailey was the XO and 124245 was his A/C. Hewas pulled from the squadron and made CO of of VP-9 flying PB4Y-2s after Korea broke.They pulled VP-9 back from Kodiak after they lost the 4th PB4Y-2.

From Al Hall, 07Sep2003The photo in question was taken at Naha. The first time I saw it there was a date of15 October 1951. I don't recognize any of the people (we were all tall and thin inthose days) maybe some of the other members from that era will.

Jim Welch
I was in VP2 from 4/56 until 12/58. We deployed to both
Kodiak
( 11/56-5/57) and Iwakuni ( 9/58-2/59). The squadron was
short on AT'S. Myself and two other AT'S (Bruce Walker
and Bill Zambriski) were deployed to
Iwakuni as shortimers. We came back to the US in Dec 58 for
discharge. The crew I went to Iwakuni with lost an
engine between Kwajalen and Guam and we spent almost a month waiting on
an oil cooler. We arrived in Iwakuni in
mid October 58 so I only had two months there.